


One Day In Doriath - Strength and Beauty.

by hennethgalad



Category: Silmarillion
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10476624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Doriath - the complexities of social life among the elves.NSFW. ADULT.





	

One day in Doriath : strength and beauty 

 

Morning

Thingol paused, and looked thoughtfully at Oropher, all the while they had been eating, he had seemed distant, but now the light blue eyes were gazing out over the forest; the discussion of the days festivities in celebration of spring had fallen from his mind like crumbs from a cloth. Thingol was at a loss, no faint rumour of trouble had reached his blythe ears, he had no notion of Oropher's thought.  
  'Share your trouble with me, my old friend ?' he said finally. Oropher started, blushing, then looked down at the table and up into Thingol's eyes. There was a faint hint of anxiety in them. Thingol smiled 'It cannot be so terrible, whatever it is. Please...'  
 Oropher sighed 'My lord, my old friend, it is that I do not wish to insult or offend you.' Thingol's eyes widened, he was now completely baffled   
 'Oropher, by my honour, if you do not now explain yourself I truly shall be insulted and offended. '  
   
 Oropher looked at him from a moment then rose and moved to the edge of the High Terrace, looking down to where Esgalduin gleamed in the valley below.  
 'I wish to depart from Menegroth. I wish to leave Doriath altogether, to travel freely until my heart says "here", and then shape a realm of my own. I wish to take my son away, out of the hands of Celeborn, for I am certain that if Celeborn has not succeeded yet, he will soon seduce Thranduil, and in the loyalty of his heart Thranduil would consider himself wed to Celeborn, and never bring forth children. But how can I tell you these things and yet avoid insulting you, for this is your realm and Celeborn is your kin.' He leaned back, half sitting on the stone railing, his hands gripping the carven balustrade. Thingol gazed at him in astonishment. There was a long, thoughtful silence.

 Finally Thingol rubbed his chin with two fingers, and Oropher raised his brows, it was a habit of Thingol's, since youth; as though to remind himself where his voice was, Oropher had always thought, but never liked to say.

 'Celeborn... Are you certain ? He is affectionate, truly, and they are always together, but they are merely close friends, surely.'  
 Oropher narrowed his eyes at Thingol 'My lord, Thranduil is my son, I watch him with a more attentive eye than perhaps even you. He himself, I am certain, feels only friendship, but as I have said, as you yourself know, he is fiercely loyal and sometimes rashly generous. I believe he would do anything for Celeborn already. To be deprived of seeing the children he would have  had would break my heart, his mother would be distraught. I have been too hesitant, but even now it is hard to speak. The subject itself can only be embarrassing for both of us, and the only remedy I can perceive is to depart from this place, which will offend you and cause grief to all concerned.' He sighed and looked intently at Thingol.

 'Your wife agrees with you, then, you have already decided, have you not ?'  
Oropher nodded slowly, the wisdom of Thingol had long been a matter of song and tale.   
 'My lord, she herself first indicated the growing... growing sensuality of Celeborn's manner toward my son. But since she has drawn my attention to it, I feel blind for never before seeing what was taking place at my very table. I must remove my son from those hands !' He took a deep breath, then looked down at his own hand, gripping the carved stone branch of the railing 'But the solution answers to the desire of my heart, to be free of...'

 'Of me.' said Thingol simply. Oropher frowned and put his hand over his eyes, as if he could unsee what he had seen, unthink what he had thought.  
 'No, my friend, not you, but anyone who might thwart my will. I wish to build a home, plant a garden, be the master of my domain, ' he smiled 'Which I would wish to have resemble your domain in almost every particular.' 

 Thingol inclined his head graciously. There was another silence. Finally Thingol spoke.  
 'You are no prisoner here, you have sworn no oath to remain at my side, you may depart at your pleasure. All assistance that I can give you I offer freely, scouts, guides, provisions, equipment, for an expedition of whatever size you desire. May the stars shine upon your wandering, and upon the building of your new domain.'

 Oropher bowed, his face solemn but his heart singing. Thingol's wisdom was exceeded by his graciousness, truly a great king. 'My gratitude is beyond expression. Yet, even I, who appreciate your wisdom more than many can, am surprised by your swift grasp of my plight.'  
 Thingol smiled 'How could I fail to understand, I who take such deep delight in my life, in my domain, in my work. The thought of standing by while another ruled in my stead is intolerable to me, it is a simple matter to imagine your own frustration. I wish you joy in all your labours, my old friend, and long may your line endure !'

***************************************************

The nightingales swirled around Galadriel as she entered the sunlit chamber favoured by Melian for receiving guests. Flowers, real, carven and embroidered, were everywhere, and the song and wingbeats of the birds filled the sweet air. Melian rose from her white chair and held out both hands. Galadriel took them in hers and smiled into the eyes of the beautiful maia, who gestured her to the couch. When they were seated, Galadriel looked curiously at Melian, it was not often that they met here, in this most formal of Melian's meeting places.   
 Melian smiled a brief smile, then said  
    'I would like you to marry Celeborn.' 

 Galadriel gazed at Melian in astonishment 'I... you... marry ? Is he of age ? Surely Thranduil...'  
 Melian nodded slowly, and Galadriel sat back in the couch. Two bloodlines might be lost if the two youths were not separated. The idle talk had turned to gossip, Celeborn could not now keep his hands from Thranduil's truly magnificent body, and even Galadriel experienced a flicker of regret that she had not been asked to marry the already majestic Thranduil. She looked again at Melian, who was regarding her steadily.  
  'I, ah, are you certain that it is not too late ? They separated my brother Finrod from Glorfindel, but neither of those two will ever marry, they are one, in body, in spirit, and in heart. '  
 Melian nodded, the song of the meeting at Eithel Ivrin was a favourite of hers. 'Thranduil has not given himself yet, they could still part as friends, for Celeborn has the greatest of tact, patience and delicacy. But his tender webs are tightening around Thranduil, it will be soon, we must act swiftly. Oropher intends to leave Doriath, taking his family with him, taking his son away from Celeborn.' 

 'But why do you ask this of me ?'  
Melian nodded 'I have seen your painting of Glorfindel, and I suspect the wish of your heart. Finrod is not the only child of Finarfin to have fallen in love with Glorfindel.'   
 Tears sprang into the burning eyes of Galadriel, but she was mighty among the Noldor, strong and powerful, beautiful as a clear morning, pining for an elf who could feel nothing for her, despite her splendour. Her hopeless love had burned her heart; for centuries she had struggled to overcome the intensity, until a chance meeting with an artist had offered her a glimmer of hope. If she could translate her thought into an image, if she could focus her desire; into paint, into shape, into colour, the very act of creation would ease her pain. Her talent had been limited, but her ferocious will had driven her to persist. Centuries had passed. Studios in her various dwellings had filled with image after image, each a little closer, but always that final shape she sought eluded her. It had been only months since she had finally accomplished her aim. The picture seemed almost alive. At first she had gazed expectantly at it, until she became aware that she awaited its speech, or movement. Then the tears had finally come, the picture was complete, she could grieve for the love that would never be hers, and be free from her obsession. 

 Melian smiled kindly 'My heart tells me that if you do not wed, the line of Finarfin will end.'   
 Galadriel looked at her in horror, she had four siblings, all brothers, and only one of them in love with another male.  
  'Is our future so dark, then ?' she asked anxiously. Melian pursed her lips  
  'You yourself admitted to me the words spoken by the messenger of Mandos, pronouncing the Doom of the Noldor : "and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you." But, Galadriel my friend, for you alone, amidst the darkness, I see a distant hope. But only through darkness will you come to it, and great will be the burden of patience you must endure.'  
 Galadriel was silent, aware suddenly of the littleness of the world she now dwelt within. The thousand caves were always full of elves, feasting, dancing, singing, crafting beautiful tools or toys. It was a place of joy and laughter, but it was an island, guarded and fenced, the bows of Thingol's hunters and the power of Melian the maia kept The Enemy at bay, but all were aware that the orcs attacked daily, that the hunters were waging a war against darkness; the elves of Menegroth merely held out forlornly, like children at play in a fortress of sand, which the sea would presently overwhelm. Galadriel realized then that Melian had shared a little of her thought with her, that she was seeing something of the future...  
 'Do you believe that He will truly overrun Beleriand ?'

Melian sighed and stroked the nightingale on her finger 'My friend, let me say only this. When you leave here, you must go east. You must pass over the Ered Luin, and continue east. ' She stopped and frowned 'I see another mountain range, far, far beyond, but...' She shook her head 'I have lived for too long in this guise, my mind is, as it were, muffled... my vision clouded...'

 Galadriel looked anxiously at her, but the dark hair fell away from the pale oval face, and the clear grey eyes smiled at her 'I do not regret my choice. With my beloved Thingol I have found a joy that... that words cannot convey. The bliss of the unseen realm is truly wondrous, but there is nothing beyond Arda to match the ecstasy of the love of the body. It seems to me sometimes to be the closest thing to the spirit of Yavanna, that which flourished in the Trees, the Light, which only remains now in our hearts, and in the Silmarils, and alas, The Enemy has those.'

 Galadriel sighed, then frowned  
 'But Celeborn ?' she asked. Melian lifted her hand, the nightingale fluttered away.  
 'He will turn fifty next month. He is kin to Thingol. He is tall, wise, beautiful and strong. I know that you are on good terms with him, I have often seen you laughing together. You will make a lovely pairing, your child will be as fair as sunlight on snow.'  
 'Child ? ' Galadriel interrupted 'One, but only one ?'  
Melian looked away 'Forgive me, I have said too much. It is better not to know; I feel I am stealing from you, stealing hope, expectation, anticipation... I must say no more. But you have understood my mind, you can see why I ask this thing of you. You need not say yes. You need not say anything. Indeed, you may travel with Oropher and his family, and never see Celeborn, or indeed myself, again. You are free, my friend, you may choose as your heart tells you.'

 Galadriel folded her fingers together and leaned her head on the back of the couch, looking up into the carved flowers on the ceiling, where the nightingales circled, flapping onto perches, then dropping into the pillar of sunlight from the window and flying around Melian. She liked Celeborn, he was the finest elf in Doriath, after Thingol, anyone would be honoured to be with him. Even the wildly popular Thranduil trembled on the brink of succumbing to the charm of Celeborn. She tried to imagine what it must be like to be lavished with such graceful devotion, and knew that the decision had already been made. She remembered the words from Ainulindalë and sang them to the nightingales   
 'the music of the Ainur, which shall be as fate...'

 

*******************************************************************

 Celeborn stirred as he awoke, he had been singing with friends under the starlight, and had slept but little. Ivras was stroking his chest, his other arm held Celeborn's thighs together, while he had taken the whole of Celeborn into his mouth. Celeborn, who had been awakened in this way every day since Ivras had come to him almost a year earlier, could almost have purred from the pleasure. He smiled, remembering the night of last year's Feast of Spring, when Melian herself had led him into an alcove and transfixed the laughing youth with her grey eyes, older than Arda, the wisest of all embodied spirits.  
  'Ivras will come to you.' she had said finally, to the now nervous Celeborn.   
 'I... autumn ? do you mean that I will change when I am old ?'  
Melian had smiled 'That at least is certain, for in all things there is change. No, he is called Ivras. He was at Cuiviénen.'  
 Celeborn gaped at her, he himself had never even seen someone who had been at Cuiviénen, most had followed the path to Valinor and none had returned. Cuiviénen... the fatherless, motherless elves, who had awoken by the lake, full of words and song and joy. He frowned at Melian 'he will come to me ? what... why ?'  
  Melian smiled briefly 'It is his wish. He will perform the duties of a valet, he will care for you and... tend you.'  
 Celeborn frowned 'He was at Cuiviénen but he wants to be a valet ?'  
 Melian moved her mouth subtly, but the fleeting expression eluded Celeborn, whether amusement, envy or something other, for which his youth had given him no name, nor any capacity to fathom.  
  She spoke 'He wishes to be a valet because he was at Cuiviénen. Their life was very different to ours, he will not tell you, and I know little myself, for I never saw Cuiviénen. But he cares nothing for things, or power, or the elaborate rituals of our life here.  
   However, he is alone, he lost the one he loved, though he will not speak of that either. He finds one who draws him, he goes to them and he tends them. He has been with Beleg Cúthalion for a long time now, and before that Daeron himself. You should be honoured.'

 Celeborn blinked in astonishment, the greatest singer and the best archer in Doriath, followed by himself, he who was so young, still a year away from marriageable age... 'But why me ? I have done nothing, I have had no great gift from Eru, why me ?'  
 Melian shook her head 'I do not think he even knows, I can see little of your future, but I know that Ivras will bring you joy; Daeron and Beleg both invite you to drink with them this evening in case you have any doubts about accepting a stranger into your life. '  
 The thought of another serious interview this evening, especially with someone as clever as Daeron, or as forbidding as Beleg, made him wince inside 'My lady, any wish of yours is my firm intention. It will be my honour and pleasure to accept such a one into my life. Indeed, even to see someone who swam in the waters of Cuiviénen would be an honour. My lady, I would have accepted had you said that I was to be valet to him.'  
 Melian rose with a smile 'The strange wisdom of Ivras. Believe me, young Celeborn, he is as unfathomable to me as to you. I will ask you to bring your thoughts of him to me, though I know I ask in vain, for none who have been favoured with his attention have ever spoken of him. Consider that our finest bard has sung nothing of the one who has been closest to him for so long. Consider that the very name is unknown to you. Imagine my curiosity.'  
 Celeborn stood, put his hand upon his heart and bowed 'My lady, it baffles me that anyone could have a higher claim on my loyalty than you, I cannot believe Daeron would not tell you all that you wished to hear.'  
 Melian nodded 'It baffles Daeron, but he blushes and stammers and remains silent. I cannot bring myself to pry. Perhaps there are some things which should remain private, which are fragile, delicate, like the bubble or the snowflake, destroyed in the very act of putting into words.' She inclined her head, smiled at the astonished Celeborn and seemed to flow away across the Hall.

  Celeborn found the flood of desire rising to engulf him, his back began to arch, the tremors pulsed through him, he could hear his own heart, even through the hoarseness of his breath. Ivras moved his hand up to Celeborn's throat and the ecstasy shook through his body, he leaned his head back and gave a wordless cry. Ivras remained still, holding Celeborn until the trembling passed, and his breathing steadied. Then Ivras moved alongside him and looked calmly into his eyes, running his long golden-brown fingers down Celeborn's creamy flesh. Celeborn looked up into the golden-brown eyes, they reminded him of the eyes of the Ents more than the Elves, there was something of the deep forest about Ivras, the eyes had the innocent wisdom of the leopard, the steadiness of the serpent. He understood why Ivras had remained at the court of Melian, for he too was of the order of Yavanna, a creature of Arda, alive in a way that the culture of the elves had become removed from. Ivras made Celeborn feel more akin to the green elves, living simply among the trees, almost like ents themselves, lighting no fires, building no homes, but singing as they roamed. 

 He forced courage into his heart and spoke 'Why do you dwell here among the Sindar, with all our elaborate ways and our preoccupation with the things we make ?'  
 Ivras smiled his subtle smile 'It is my wish.' he said simply. It was so rarely that he spoke, Celeborn was too astonished at hearing his voice to grasp that he had said nothing. Ivras's strong hands turned him over and began to caress him, running down his back, stroking the smooth firm muscles, parting them and slowly penetrating the yielding flesh. Celeborn moaned, his body dissolving under the clever fingers, turning into molten gold, taken outside himself, feeling one with the bones of Arda, with the bed he lay on, with the air he breathed, and with the body of his lover, bolted into place.  
 When Ivras had gasped and slid out of Celeborn, he lay beside him, at ease. Celeborn turned onto his side and looked down at the smooth symmetry of the golden-brown features. Ivras seemed to be all one colour, as though his straight eyebrows were drawn on. The long lashes were even harder to see, blending with the skin. Even his lips, finely-drawn and subtle, were scarcely darker. Only the whites of his eyes stood forth, clear signals of his attention. The eyes were fixed on the carven ceiling, where a pair of marble squirrels were frozen in the dance of spring. Celeborn looked into his own heart as his hand reached out to caress the familiar body, his desire was a clear pool, but it did not seem as love, but as a necessity, vital as water, wholly different from his longing for Thranduil.  
   Ivras, in his silence, his unimaginable age, his utter strangeness, did not seem like an elf at all, not a person, who could be known and loved, he seemed entirely other, like a fanciful beast  Celeborn had once seen carved, with the legs of a goat and the body of an elf, but not lesser in kind to other elves; Ivras seemed to Celeborn to be part leopard, part maia, with the elven side of him, that liked to speak, to listen and to sing, to join in the great chorus of civilization, the least significant part.   
 As the desire swelled within him, he moved onto Ivras, running his hand between the long legs, parting the thighs, resting his weight on his elbows he leaned forwards and lay his lips softly onto those of Ivras. He pressed inside Ivras, feeling the taut body loosen under him, to gently spread and flow as he moved, possessing Ivras, consuming him, thirsting for the elusive nectar of the forest that glowed in the golden-brown eyes, dancing forever beyond his grasp.

 As he took the eager flesh, he recalled the first time he had met Ivras. It had been the evening after the Feast; he had returned from an improving discussion group, comparing social strategies among Noldor and Sindar cities, and opened the door to find a naked stranger in the largest of the three rooms of his chambers, standing in the middle of the floor.   
  With a start he realised both that this must be Ivras, and exactly why he had never seen him. For Ivras stood at ease, with the comfortable air of one so accustomed to nudity that they are unconcerned by it. Celeborn blushed, Ivras was as tall as he, but a little slighter, extremely handsome in every part, and an even golden-brown all over, from his long straight hair to his long straight limbs.   
 'Yes.' the stranger had said. 'You may do anything you desire to me, or with me.'   
Celeborn moved slowly into the room; Ivras had exploded into his mind, the familiar chairs and tables seemed warped and strange. He dropped his cloak on the back of a chair, then held onto the chair, looking at Ivras, then looking away. Things he desired to do to the slim figure flickered through his mind like figures running through trees, his breath choked in his throat, he lifted a hand slowly, but Ivras was there, with one of Celeborn's own small cups, one of a silver set his father had given him, brimming with miruvor. Celeborn took it and sipped gratefully, the glow seeped through him, and soon he was able to speak.  
 'Ivras...welcome to my home... I, you know who I am...'  
 Ivras smiled and said softly 'My lord, I would ask one thing of you. It will be the only thing I ever ask.'  
 Celeborn felt his skin alter, as though he were being touched. Something in him knew what Ivras would ask, and he could feel, deep inside, exactly why, though the words would not come to him.  
 'Speak, Ivras, name your wish, for, by Eru, you have been commended to me by those I respect above all others in Arda.'  
 'My lord,' said Ivras 'I would have you dress as I do, when we are alone.'

 There was a long silence. Celeborn sat down, sipping at the miruvor, then finally finishing the glass. He recalled the words of Melian "Ivras will come to you." The inevitability of the change of seasons, autumn will come. He knew that he would submit, he knew he would put himself, naked, into the hands of the inscrutable stranger, but it was too sudden, too strange, too much. Ivras sank gracefully to his knees and looked up at Celeborn   
 'My lord, nothing will happen unless you wish it. When you wish it. You are the master here. I offer guidance if I know that I have skills you have yet to acquire. I will do whatever you desire, and only that which you desire.' He bowed his head, the thick straight hair swung forward over the wide straight shoulders. Celeborn's hand longed to stroke the shining locks. At that moment he understood that he could, that Ivras had come to him and offered him everything, and that he wanted to taste it all, to take it all, to lose himself in that golden-brown body, to possess Ivras for however long he was given him.  
 All hesitation gone, he stood, unbuckled his belt and threw his clothes onto the chair. Finally he stood naked in front of Ivras, who looked up and said 'Even the jewels.'  
  Celeborn looked at the rings on his hand, and down at the clear diamond on the silver chain at his throat. He laughed silently at himself, lifted the chain over his head and dropped it, with the rings, onto the untidy pile of clothes. When he turned back, Ivras had risen again and stood, still as a windless tree, his arms at his sides. Celeborn put out a tentative hand and touched the golden-brown hair, then ran a hand through it. Ivras remained still. With growing confidence, Celeborn explored the contours of the first body other than his own that he had ever fully laid hands upon. Ivras's warm skin responded to the touch, and by the time Celeborn had reached down past the hard smooth abdomen, Ivras had risen to greet him. He wrapped his fingers round the long slender flesh and felt himself twist slightly within, he understood that this would be used to take him, that Ivras had the reptilian patience to await the moment that Celeborn finally gave himself completely, but that while he waited, he would indeed do anything that Celeborn desired. 

****************************************************************************

 As Celeborn lay drowsing in the familiar arms of Ivras, there was a knock at the door. Ivras slipped silently out of the room while Celeborn stretched and turned onto his back. Ivras returned and held out a hand to Celeborn, who took it, and followed him into the main room. Melian herself, cool and regal, sat in a chair, Galadriel stood behind her, her slender fingers resting on the deep green fabric of the seat. Celeborn stepped back, but Ivras held his hand and led him firmly forwards to stand naked on the carpet before the maia Melian. She looked up at him thoughtfully, and he finally remembered his manners, put a hand on his chest and bowed. She smiled slightly and spoke in her soft rich voice, whose power seemed to lie entirely in the fear and awe she inspired in her audience by her mere presence.  
  'I would like you to marry Galadriel.'

 Celeborn gaped at Melian, then glanced at Galadriel, whose lips were set in a remote smile, but whose narrowed eyes studied him closely. He was both afraid and aroused, his exposed flesh reacting visibly. Melian smiled and rose 'We must preserve the bloodlines, Celeborn;  your own, Lady Galadriel's and indeed, the line of Oropher, will all be vital in the wars to come. The darkness of the Enemy casts a long shadow, far far into the future. Galadriel is the only hope for all the House of Finwë in Arda, there will be no other children but the one borne by her, to you.'  
 This time Celeborn's body responded fully. Galadriel's eyes widened briefly, and her lips, so firm and decisive, parted slightly. The faintest flush of colour darkened the pale cheeks, and he watched the black pools in her eyes spread open. He blushed himself, this was the mighty Galadriel, noblest of Noldor, who beauty had been legendary for centuries. His wildest fantasies had not prepared him for this, he felt he should lie down before her while she wallked coldly past. The idea that she would be his as Ivras now was...

   He turned to Ivras, who was standing like stone, his head bowed, his eyes closed. Celeborn put a hand out and touched Ivras on the shoulder, glancing round again as he heard the door close; they were gone. His fate had been decided. They had not even waited to hear his polite words of acceptance, they had seen the acquiescence of his body, and left. The breath of his body had left him with them, he felt the sinews of his knees loosen, but the firm arms of Ivras were around him, scooping him up and carrying him back to bed. Celeborn lay still as Ivras took him gently, gazing up at the marble branches, then suddenly falling back into himself, as the darkness of despair closed around his heart. He turned his eyes to the golden-brown eyes of Ivras and said hoarsely   
  'Thranduil...'  
Ivras nodded 'They will take him away from you. But they are too late, the bond has formed. However long the Music holds you back from him, you will return to him finally, far hence in time.'  
 Celeborn was astonished, it was the longest speech he had heard from Ivras, he guiltily realised that he barely considered Ivras as a thinking person. He was so calm and so silent that Celeborn moved in him and for him as mindlessly as the fingers of the harpist, out of habit. He became aware again of his own skin, of his own arousal, of Ivras, hard inside him, the strong limbs holding him in place, the lithe body moving against his, the intense pleasure he took entirely for granted, given without question or hesitation, a gift so complete it defied comprehension.  
 'Ivras ! ' he cried 'I cannot give you up !'   
Ivras nodded slowly 'They will not separate us. I will never leave you now. I too feel the Music. My part is to ease your pain, and aid you in the long struggle which lies ahead of all those who still love Arda.'  
 Celeborn frowned 'But what of Galadriel? How...'  
Ivras smiled and put a finger on Celeborn's lips, drawing it around them, tracing the contours, finally sliding his finger into the warm wetness of Celeborn's mouth. The grey eyes gazed trustingly up at him, then the eyelids lowered, as ecstasy took Celeborn and bent his body back; Ivras found himself crushing into the heat, gasping for air and for release.   
 When his vision cleared, Celeborn lay still again, unblinking, while the salt tears spilled from the edges of his eyes and ran down into the white blond hair.

 ***************************************************************

 Thranduil, whose balcony was low on the side of the cliff face, overlooking a deep pool, was awoken by the sound of friends hammering on his door. His valet let them in while Thranduil sat up in bed. Two of them ran through laughing and throwing off their clothes, then diving into the dark green water, disturbing the birds and sending them indignantly into the trees. The third hauled the laughing Thranduil out of bed, then ran to the balcony himself, threw off his clothes and with a grin over his shoulder at the tousled Thranduil, dived away. Thranduil laughed, pulled off his nightshirt and vaulted over the balcony, turning gracefully in midair and entering the water as smoothly as a blade.

 

*****************************************************************

 

 Celeborn waited on the shore of the pool, sitting naked, his arms round his drawn-up knees, watching the bend of the river for Thranduil's return. Their friend was a champion swimmer, they would attempt to race him, up the stream against the strong current of Esgalduin, then turning for home, the now favourable flow carrying the weight of their tired bodies.   
 Their laughing calls reached Celeborn, then clean limbs appeared, cutting through the quilted ripples of the broad stream, and into the smooth wide stillness of the pool. Celeborn rose as the tiny wavelets reached the grey gravel of the shoreline, and stood waiting, holding a large thick towel which he found himself clutching like a drowning elf would a plank of wood.   
  The champion looked up at Celeborn and saw the tension in his face. He smiled, then winked and swam for the other shore. Thranduil cleaved the water like a hunting pike, and rose in front of Celeborn, water streaming down him, and stood frowning at Celeborn. Behind him, the others climbed the old rope ladder, now almost fixed to the wall with ivy, whose end, hanging down into the water, trailed long fine strands of waterweed, in which small whiskered creatures lived their strange lives.  
 Celeborn found the world shifting around him as Thranduil stood before him, his heart knew this was its home, that Thranduil would always be the pivot on which his life turned, and that the tidings he bore would bring them both pain beyond measure. Yet part of him, the cultured, urbane sophisticate, prince of a House of Princes, felt piqued that Thranduil had done and said nothing to acknowledge the strength of his feelings, or even their nature, and that therefore Celeborn owed him nothing, not even an explanation.  
   Celeborn smiled and wrapped the towel around Thranduil, and said, almost casually 'Melian herself came to my rooms this morning, with Galadriel, and told me I was to marry Galadriel.'

 Thranduil looked at him in consternation and blurted out 'But you are mine !'  
   His strong arms siezed Celeborn and held him firmly against himself, the warm dry flesh pressed against the cool wet skin. Celeborn found the tears filling his eyes again, he had waited so long to hear those words, and now it was already too late, his fate was decided, he would be separated from his beloved Thranduil for what even one as old as Ivras considered to be a long time. But Thranduil was kissing him, stroking the tears from his cheeks, moving his hands over Celeborn's body, breathing hoarsely, murmuring wordless sounds of love into his ears. Celeborn, full to breaking point with overwhelming joy, could yet find strength to ask the question that had haunted his nights for so long 'Why have you said nothing of your feelings until now, when it is already too late for us ?'  
 Thranduil froze, then pulled his head back and looked sternly at Celeborn   
   'Too late ? But you love me, and I love you. We are one. They cannot force you to marry Galadriel. How can it be too late ? ' he paused and smiled at Celeborn 'As for not speaking, how could I ? You were so happy trying to seduce me, there was no need for haste, I would linger forever, just feeling the touch of your hands upon my flesh.   
 Besides' he blushed 'At first I really did not believe what my senses were telling me, that your touch was of love, not merely friendship. You are so beautiful, so adored, everyone I know is half in love with you. Why would you choose me ?' he paused and smoothed his hand over Celeborn's cheek. Their eyes gazed joyfully at each other, and Thranduil smiled subtly, his eyelids closing slightly.  
  'Of course, after a time, people began to warn me that your intentions towards me were... intimate. Why did you yourself never speak ? ' he laughed 'What does it matter, for here we are, you are mine, we can be together now until the last day of Arda.'

 Celeborn choked back the tears that burned his eyes 'You... I cannot stand against them. You must speak for us. You must tell them.'   
 Thranduil looked kindly at him and laid Celeborn's head on his shoulder, stroking the smooth silvery hair   
   'It will be my pleasure to declare our love to all. I have lived in growing joy, knowing that this time would come, that you merely awaited my word.' He ran his fingers down Celeborn's back, into the smooth valley, and inside Celeborn, who lifted his head to let Thranduil kiss him.  
 The towel fell from Thranduil's shoulders as he lifted Celeborn's leg, and Celeborn clasped Thranduil's body with the muscles of his thigh and calf, while Thranduil, using a hand to guide him, finally entered Celeborn, giving a deep groan of pleasure and relief. Celeborn was astonished at the difference in intensity of experience, it was strong wine after the clear water of Ivras; his heart, full of love and pain, wanted to give everything to Thranduil, his very life, nothing could ever be too much, or even enough, for such love, for such a lover.   
  'I worship you' he whispered softly 'I love you with all my heart.'   
Thranduil smiled and kissed him again, his hands on the outer thighs of Celeborn, holding him in place while he took him. Celeborn realized that this was almost certainly the first time for Thranduil, and furthermore that Thranduil would suppose the same of him. He wondered what Thranduil would say about Ivras, and knew that he would have to introduce them this very day.      
   His spirit reeled, too much had happened, he could take nothing more. He closed his mind, and concentrated on the moment, as the magnificent Thranduil took him, allowing himself to hang loosely in the solid grip, feeling the rhythm grow swifter and yet more intense, as the realization of their dream became flesh. They drowned in each others eyes, they merged their flesh, their breath mingled, the beating of their hearts kept time, their spirits found harmony as the Music flowed through them, raising them to bliss, and to ecstatic release in union. Overwhelmed by love, by the day's disturbances, and by the long awaited presence of his beloved Thranduil, Celeborn, for the first time in his life, fainted.

  Thranduil, startled at first, kissed him, and frowned, then realized what had happened, smiled proudly and lowered the unconscious Celeborn to the ground. He was standing astride the limp naked body when he felt eyes upon him, not one set, but many. He looked up, then stood gazing up across Esgalduin at the South Cliff, whose many balconies overlooking the forest and the river were now lined with still elves, staring silently down at the two naked lovers on the shore of the pool. Thranduil felt his cheeks burn, yet he did not feel shame, nor could he sense disapproval from the many watchers. He stood straight, almost defiant, he was proud to be the lover of Celeborn, he was proud of them both, he was even proud that he was still visibly aroused. He stared back at the many faces, and to his everlasting joy, the watching elves began to withdraw, to turn away, leaving the forest to Celeborn and to him.

  When he was sure that they were alone, he looked down; Celeborn, exhausted beyond his capacity to endure, had not moved. Thranduil picked up a clean towel, wrapped it around Celeborn and lifted him into his arms. Gently he carried him downstream to the little plank bridge that led to the postern gate that no one had ever seen closed. Grass grew in the path before it, the sentry sat whittling at a model bear he was carving in wood, and looked up in surprise at Thranduil with his burden. Celeborn's white-gold hair hung down from his swaying head, draped over Thranduil's arms like a cloak. Love burned in Thranduil's heart, and fury that even Melian would presume to tell them they must part. He told himself that he would threaten to leave Doriath, taking Celeborn with him, if they even suggested a separation. 

   He carried Celeborn up the stairs to Celeborn's own rooms, and stopped on the threshold; for the first time becoming aware that he had never been inside them, though Celeborn had haunted Thranduil's rooms for as long as he could remember. He smiled, now full of curiosity to see what decor Celeborn preferred. He raised the latch and pushed the door open, as Celeborn finally began to stir in his arms. A golden-brown elf, entirely naked, came forwards and held out his arms. Thranduil was still gazing into the calm, golden-brown eyes when Celeborn raised his head, looked from one to the other and gave a short breath of laughter. 'My love, this is Ivras. He is my valet. He was at Cuiviénen.'  
 Thranduil silently handed Celeborn over to Ivras, who settled him comfortably into his arms and carried him through into the bathroom. Thranduil followed dumbly, altogether outside his own experience, and watched Ivras lower Celeborn into the water and tenderly bathe him. Celeborn awoke fully and lay passively under the hands of the strange elf, as Thranduil watched what he knew to be a familiar scene to both of them. They were both becoming aroused, and Thranduil found his own, still naked body responding in kind. When Ivras had bathed Celeborn to his satisfaction, he lifted him onto a couch, laid him face down and almost casually slid inside him. Celeborn, whose face had not left that of Thranduil, gave a half smile. 'How could I speak to you of love, when this is how I live ?'

 Thranduil groped for words, for calmness, for sanity 'Do you love him ?' he blurted finally.  
Celeborn lifted one side of his mouth in a half smile 'No, I hardly know him, he rarely speaks. But he tends to my body with an enthralled devotion that I cannot resist. Melian herself told me he would come to me. Before me he tended Beleg Cúthalion, and before him, Daeron himself.'  
 Thranduil snorted 'Melian again, interfering in all our lives...'  
 But Celeborn said 'No, she merely warned me that he was coming, and told me what I have told you, which is all that I yet know of him. He is as strange to me still, as he is to you. '  
 Thranduil frowned at Ivras, who was caressing Celeborn with a practiced air that tore Thranduil's heart and burned his pride. Celeborn's eyes began to close as Ivrin's hands and body moved faster, then Celeborn arched his back, his head leaning up to Ivras, who lowered his mouth onto Celeborn's lips, and as they kissed they moaned as the esctasy of release surged through them, jerking their bodies into brief convulsions.   
  Ivras raised his head, and gently laid Celeborn's head down on the couch, he had fainted again. Ivras moved out of him, stood up and approached Thranduil. He looked for a moment into Thranduil's eyes, then bowed his head, sank to his knees and waited.

 There was a long silence. Finally, a thought in Thranduil's mind found ready the words he needed 'You taught him. You taught him how to touch me. He has been... I have been... the desire is burning my heart, still, even after...'  
  The animal eyes, full of the strange wisdom of the very old, looked up into his. Thranduil felt his breath cease, his flesh prickled, he felt that Ivras was communicating with him in a way that did not involve words, or even thought.  
  'Master.' said Ivras softly, and Thranduil realized that it was the first word that Ivras had uttered. Suddenly he believed Celeborn's wild tale, that this entity could move into a life, as taken for granted as a pet, or a valet, and yet retain this powerful hold he had over whoever his wish had chosen. But he was speaking 'Let me wash the river from your hair, my lord.'

 Thranduil's eyes widened and he glanced at the unconscious Celeborn, whose arm had slid from the couch, the upturned hand resting on the grass-green rug. But Thranduil was vividly aware of the other in the room, of the poised stillness, the animal alertness that was far more than mere animal, an echo of the presence of the maia, something deeply connected to the Life of Arda. As though Ivras were a lone tree, struck repeatedly by mighty darts of lightning, yet untroubled, unscathed. Thranduil felt the chill of the years, Ivras's terrible age appalled him, he felt as insignificant as a blade of grass beside a great oak, an awe which verged on fear made the small hairs rise on his bare skin. But the flesh of Ivras was young and smooth, his beauty unmarred, his skin glowed, his hair shone, Thranduil could almost hear the song of desire. His will formed, his body responded, he lowered his eyes and nodded. Ivras rose and led him into the bathroom. 

 To Thranduil's surprise, Ivras made no attempt to take him, but when he was bathed and dried, knelt before Thranduil and took him in his mouth. Thranduil buried his fingers in the sleek golden-brown hair and let the desire flow through him into bliss. Afterwards, Ivras rose without a word and began to gather the wet towels together, with the anonymous efficiency of an experienced servant. Thranduil gazed at him in astonishment then shook his head. It was beyond him, Ivras was altogether strange to his modern mind, though the pleasure that the experienced hands and lips had brought him had been real enough. He thought of the tales of Cuiviénen, never told or sung in public, of volumes of old scrolls kept in locked caskets for the eyes of expert scholars, deemed unsuitable for young minds. Yet here was the living proof that the strangest rumours were not only true but barely hinted at the complete foreignness of Ivras and his kind, that all the juvenile giggling had had its source in truth, that Cuiviénen had been a real place, where Ivras, this Ivras, had found himself conscious, an adult elf, alive in Arda.  
 He looked at the slim naked body, now wiping the water spilt on the marble floor of the bathroom, but his mind rebelled. He turned away, and there was Celeborn, stirring on the couch. Thranduil smiled and went to his lover.

   They passed the entire day in the bed of Celeborn; after a few hours Ivras had quietly joined them, focusing most of his attention on Celeborn, caressing where he could, working carefully around Thranduil, until Celeborn, stormed and taken, exhausted, had sighed, his eyes had rolled back in his head and he had gone limp again. Ivras had looked almost apologetically at Thranduil, moved Celeborn to one side of the bed and laid him out comfortably. Thranduil too had sighed, lying back with his hands folded behind his head, happier than he had ever hoped to become, his body at rest, contented, all desires sated. But Ivras had lain down beside him and gently but irresistibly pulled Thranduil's arms straight. For a strange moment Thranduil wondered if Ivras intended to bind him, he was beyond surprise; but Ivras merely held Thranduil's hands to the carved railings across the head of the bed, where Thranduil's fingers had almost naturally curved into holding on. Thranduil knew what was going to happen, what Ivras was going to do to him, they had both spent the afternoon doing just that to Celeborn. But Thranduil was afraid, he did not feel prepared. He looked anxiously down at Ivras, he was long and slim, smaller than Thranduil or even Celeborn.   
  Ivras smiled gently and lifted Thranduil's chin 'There will be no pain.' he said, in his soft strange voice. Thranduil shivered, there was something eerie about Ivras, he felt that he was offering himself to Yavanna, to an acolyte, to be taken in a ritual of worship, an initiation, a ceremony. He clung to the railing and spread his legs apart.  
  Ivras took his face in his hands and kissed him softly on the forehead, then took oil from the small vessel on the table and rubbed his hands with it. He applied some to himself, then began to work the oil into the most sensitive flesh between the open legs of Thranduil. Ivras was calm, measured, intent, but Thranduil trembled, the fact that it was his first time, the fact that he had expected that Celeborn would be first, would be the only... these things were as nothing next to the utter strangeness of Ivras. His breathing became a fight for air, he felt vulnerable, exposed, far more so than when he had stood before all those eyes, for these golden-brown eyes had him transfixed, he could not even form the will to resist; the will of Ivras was so strong, so focused, so intense, that Thranduil's own will moved in harmony with it. Ivras wished to take him, his body had responded, he was ready, sweat gleamed on his smooth skin, he bit his lips, his eyelids sank, he looked up into the golden eyes, wishing there were more he could do for Ivras, more he could give. He made a small sound of longing, and Ivras moved.  
 It did not feel as Thranduil had expected, though the sensation of invasion was as strong as he had guessed. The melting sweetness of his own submission blended with his delight in Ivras's obvious pleasure, for though Ivras's calm face remained still, Thranduil could feel his passion, hear his breath hasten and his heart pound. Their arousal worked on each other, they moved together, and the strong potions of desire began to flow deep within Thranduil, as Ivras's steady thrusting lit new fires inside him. He began to understand what Celeborn found to enjoy in what they had done to him, he began to feel the desire for more, and the tears sprang to his eyes as he realized that soon Celeborn would awaken, and be delighted to offer this service to Thranduil. He did not, could not accept that Celeborn would be taken from him, the idea was absurd. A small part of his mind recalled the tragic story of Finrod and Glorfindel, but he mentally shook his head, he and Celeborn were not like that, nobody would be concerned for them. The political schemes of the maia could be ignored, he would take Celeborn away if necessary, he would even let him bring...  
  He focused again on the golden-brown eyes which had never left his, and for a fleeting moment, his very mind opened to the stranger. He felt like a shellfish, prised open, trying desperately to snap shut. No words entered his mind, but the calm steady eyes held him, and his body flooded with ecstasy, he shook, almost convulsing, and lay still, in bliss, his mind and body open, as the strange golden-brown elf gave a faint smile and took his pleasure in the naked body and spirit of Thranduil Oropherion.

 

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Evening

 

 Oropher was admitted to the chamber of flowers as the dusk made the lanterns seem to glow more brightly. Galadriel was there, as lovely as ever, but she barely spoke, she barely seemed aware of him. He had never seen her so preoccupied, and wondered what grim tidings had disturbed her so. Melian gestured him to a seat, he looked expectantly at her.  
  'I would bid you farewell, kinsman, and give you a warning.' she said. Oropher glanced at Galadriel, concerned that she too had had a warning. But Galadriel was staring blankly ahead, lost in thought. He turned back to Melian and raised his eyebrows.   
  'Beware your pride, beautiful Oropher, though you have much to excuse it, it will destroy you at the last.'  
  'My pride ? My lady, we are all humble before you.' he bowed slightly. When he looked up, she was regarding him through half-closed eyes, a mocking smile on her lips. He blushed, she had heard the empty words of ritual flattery before... But he knew the words, though not the tone, had been in earnest, it baffled him yet that Thingol dared to touch this spirit made flesh, older than the world, and entirely alien to his understanding. She had always made him uncomfortable, though Galadriel seemed at ease in her presence. He remembered then that Thingol had seen what he himself had not, for Thingol had been to Valinor, and seen not only Maiar but Valar, and stood in the Light of the Trees.   
 He laughed at himself; for a moment, cold fear had reached icily through him, but he would never have to face the fear in his heart, for the Trees were dark, the Light was banished, and mere echoes remained, the pale candles of sun and moon. He had always feared that his spirit would be burned away by the Light, that he himself would melt like rising mist, becoming nothing more than a hollow vessel, filled only with Light.   
  He found the grey eyes fixed on his, and held himself still, the urge to writhe in his seat and then flee was strong in him, and he felt that she could see even that. But her eyes softened into a smile. 'You must pass over the Ered Luin and travel far into the East. I offered the same advice to Galadriel, who will also be leaving here, though not, alas, in your company.'   
 This time Galadriel did look at him, and it was sympathy that he saw in her eyes. He knew the grief that lay ahead for Thranduil, who had always been happy here, who had been born here, and knew no other place. He himself would be torn in two, for it was here that he had met and married his beloved wife, and had himself been happy for long centuries.

 'It will be my honour and pleasure to follow your advice, my lady, for your wisdom far surpasses that of any elf, even one so wise as the lady Galadriel. '  
 The lady Galadriel glanced at him, a wry smile flickered across her face for a moment, but she soon returned to pensive contemplation of the flowers carved into the ceiling. Melian smiled gently at him, he felt an air of expectation, and waited in silence with them, hoping that whatever or whoever they awaited would not present him with another insoluble problem.  
  Thingol himself opened the door, leading Celeborn and Thranduil, both of whom were flushed and sleepy-looking. Oropher could see at once that the rumours he had heard of their actions by the river earlier had been true. Yet a part of him was glad, he would not grudge them their joy in each other, for he did not doubt that Melian would separate them, and bring them pain that they would not imagine they could endure.

 They all rose to greet them, Melian gestured them to seats, an aide with a tray of goblets gave them wine, they all drank in silence.  
  After a time, Melian looked pointedly at Oropher, who swallowed nervously and turned to the shining eyes of his son.  
  'Thranduil, my dear son, I have some tidings to share with you. We shall be leaving Doriath at once, to travel east, and cross Ered Luin, and make a home for ourselves far away from here.'  
 Thranduil nodded 'May we bring Celeborn with us ? For he and I are one now, and nothing can separate our hearts.'  
 Celeborn blushed and lowered his gaze, but Thranduil clenched his jaw and looked with cold politeness at his elders. Only Melian could meet his eye, the others could not bear to see the fierce innocent love burning within him, that they must crush.  
  'Thranduil, it is not what we wish, it is not what we choose, it is only what must be. He must stay, he must marry Galadriel, and you must go with your father, for your fate is bound with the ultimate fate of the Enemy. If you do not leave him now, the darkness will triumph, the world will fall into the hands of the Enemy forever, and there will be no crossing the sea to Valinor for any of us.   
  I am sorry that you will be called upon to pay this price, especially sorry that you should learn of it just as you find your heart's desire. Yet many more will pay a higher price than you, Thranduil Oropherion; for hear my words and know this, when the ages have passed and the struggle is ended, you will be reunited with each other, not in distant Valinor, but here, among the woods and streams of Arda, and you will come together under the trees you love and you shall know that you will have each other until the world ends, and, most of all, that you have played your part in the victory.  
  When the time of waiting hangs heavily upon you, remember this, that if you had stayed together, you would soon have been parted by bloody force, the victory of the Enemy would be assured, and that you would have had no hope of happiness.   
 You might also remember those who have been taken alive by the Enemy, whose need requires our utmost aid; and those left behind to grieve. For you will not share their fate, this I have seen, no hurt will touch either one of you, and you will be reunited in time.'

 But Thranduil rose, his fists clenched, and cried wordlessly with grief, rage and pain. Celeborn rose beside him, put both arms around him and whispered soft endearments to him. Thranduil allowed himself to be lowered back onto the couch, and looked a desperate appeal to his father. Oropher bowed his head for a moment, then looked at his son.   
 'I am sorry for you, son, truly I am, we all are. If fate were less cruel, we would be congratulating you both and wishing you joy. Indeed, I do so wish. But you must be patient, I am sorry that it has come now, just when you are happiest, but we are only elves, the Music moves us, we must listen with open hearts and follow the true path. '   
 His voice became softer, more personal 'For myself, I could weep with joy to hear that you will pass unscathed through the wars to come, I feel that I at least have been given a great gift, that I need have no fear for you, no fear at all, save only the pain of your grief at a parting which you know will end in happiness.'  
 Thranduil was silent. He looked helplessly from one face to another, and in Galadriel's eyes he saw the tears rise, though they did not spill. She looked at Melian, who nodded.  
  'I will tell you now' said Galadriel, 'What I have never told to anyone, save Melian; that I love without hope, and I will grieve until the world ends. For my heart is given to Glorfindel, though he has politely declined, and there is nothing that can alter this fact. '

 Thranduil's voice was choked and hoarse, the effort of keeping his turbulent emotions in hand had left him trembling. He drooped his lips sympathetically 'My lady, I had heard talk of your pain, I am more sorry than I can say that you should suffer in this way. But to me it is as if one who had lost both legs should say to me that the loss of my arm is thereby diminished. It is not so, and my will revolts against your cold reason, for Celeborn is mine, and I will defend him with my last breath.'   
 Galadriel nodded silently and turned to Melian, who looked, not at Thranduil but at Celeborn.   
  'Speak, Celeborn, share your thoughts with us.'  
  'My lady, I am his. If he wishes us to leave here tonight, I shall follow him into the darkness. But I see no path ahead without grief, for though I would choose to be with him at whatever cost, yet I cannot will that others should suffer by my choice. I cannot will the darkness upon you, or Galadriel, or my family, or Thranduil's family, or upon anyone. If the price of true happiness for us, for all who can be happy, is merely my patience, then I do not feel that I can presume to grudge it, especially when I consider the price that others have paid, and the pain that so many have yet to face.'  
   
 Thranduil uttered a despairing sound, a choking sob, a faint cry, and throwing his arms around Celeborn he wept bitterly. Celeborn held him, stroking the fine gold hair, murmuring softly, trying to hold back his own tears. 

 Thingol cleared his throat and said thickly 'Surely we need not rush into anything ? Let them have some time together, now that...'  
 Melian shook her head, and Oropher too looked doubtful. 'No, it is better that they part at once. The shock will be severe, but they cannot now be happy, knowing how brief their time would be. The temptation to flee would plague them, though I am certain that they would never run from their duty. Let the pain be swift, and the healing will be swifter. '

 This time Celeborn spoke 'Oh no, please, I beg you, let us remain together for a little, we have hardly... there has been no time... you do not mean to separate us now, tonight ?'  
 Thranduil raised his tear-wet face, staring at Melian in black pain. She looked at Oropher 'My friend, when do you think you will be ready to leave ?'  
 All eyes were on Oropher, who moved shyly in his seat 'Ah, well, there is much to prepare, ah... I doubt we could be provisioned and packed in less than a week, probably longer. There will be many who wish to make the journey over the mountains, and the expedition of Galadriel is also travelling east' he looked curiously at Celeborn for a moment 'I anticipate much confusion and disorder in the organization of two such treks, I would be surprised if we left within a month.'  
 Thingol sat back in his chair contentedly, but Celeborn felt his heart twist with hope and pain. Thranduil was looking at his father's anxious face, an incredulous sound of hope in his voice   
  'A month ? You will give us a month ?' fresh tears rose in his eyes and ran unheeded down his face 'My lady, you will understand and forgive us if we beg your leave to depart your presence now, we wish to speak, while we yet may, for indeed it was not until this very day that we declared our love.'

 Melian sighed. 'You will not believe my words, but I promise you that every hour you spend together now will increase your pain in the long years that lie ahead. Far better to part now, as strangers who have had a passionate encounter, and begin afresh when at last you can be together.  
  You will say that you are not strangers, but believe me, the love of friends is of a very different kind to the love you share, in which you are yet strangers. If you become familiar with each other as lovers, as you could in a month, you will be driving the arrow deeper into your hearts, and you will suffer far more than you need to. ' she looked hopelessly at them, knowing that both would gladly accept worse than a vague threat of future pain for the chance to spend a single night together; a full month seemed riches indeed to their despairing eyes. 

 They gazed at her in silence, one spirit in two bodies, then moving as one they turned to Galadriel, who smiled kindly at them 'I will take care of Celeborn, and do all that I can to ease the pain of waiting. ' She turned to Melian 'Can they not meet, sometimes ? We could make our  homes near each other...'   
 But Melian shook her head 'They will both bear children, they must concern themselves with their own lives as they find them, not chase a dream of the remote future. You will understand more fully as the years pass that I am not commanding these things, nor ordering anyone to do anything. It is my part only to share with you what I have seen of the future, and to warn you of the consequences should you stray from the only safe path. I do not say that they must never meet, only that it would weaken them both, and they will need all their strength for the struggles ahead, for though they will escape injury, capture or death, war will take its dreadful toll on all who endure it, in grief, misery and loss. Brief meetings with distracted strangers will only cloud the pure memory of love, and weaken the beauty of the hope they have for the bliss of the future.'  
  She paused and looked at them, but she knew they could barely hold her words in mind. 'You have my blessing' she said 'And leave to go.' They clutched each other, then collected themselves and bowed to her, the others rose and bid them goodnight. Celeborn's voice was raised in song as they left the room, and even Melian smiled to hear the Wedding Song of the Husband echoing back up the stairs.

 Melian turned to Galadriel, who looked expectantly at her, feeling that a new challenge would be presented to her. Melian narrowed her eyes slightly, then smiled.   
  'My friend, you have an unusual task to perform. You must come to terms with the valet of your future husband. I understand that you will have qualms, since you met him this morning, but I strongly suggest that you speak with him now, since I believe that Celeborn will be otherwise occupied for some time.'  
 Galadriel nodded, ignoring the bemused stare of Oropher, and the pink in the cheeks of Thingol. 'I... do you have any advice, my lady ? The only knowledge I have is that he was at Cuiviénen...'  
  Melian shook her head 'All I know is that he is stranger than you or I could imagine, stranger even than the one you met in Valinor, far stranger, for he has been alone since before the elves began to count the years. But he is kind. '  
 Galadriel nodded, feeling the many meanings of the word 'kind', and knowing that Melian meant all of them, and more, in subtly shifting webs of significance that only endless patience could untangle, fruitlessly; for in that time the patterns themselves would shift, and the very act of interpretation had already altered the structure of the concept.  
 'I will speak with him. If he will permit it.'  
 'He will be honoured, and fascinated. I think that his interest in Celeborn is personal, whereas with Daeron and Beleg, I believe it was a cultural education that he sought. But Celeborn is both lovely and, as yet, undistinguished. Therefore I anticipate a keen interest in you from Ivras, since you are to marry his chosen one. Furthermore, be wary, for he has tremendous strength, the spirit of Yavanna is undimmed within him, and his beauty is as you have seen. There is no doubt in my mind that anyone chosen by Ivras, including Thingol, or even myself, would fall under his spell.   
  I warn you.   
But I repeat, he is kind. '

 By now Oropher was sitting as far forward in his seat as politeness permitted, visibly restraining himself from interrupting with questions. Galadriel rose, waved down the others, bowed and left, hearing the almost explosive outbust from Oropher through the closed door. A solitary nightingale flapped feebly down from a carved snake which thrust its stone head down the stairwell, and alighted on her shoulder. She smiled at it, amused by the notion of appearing at the door of the chambers of Celeborn with it still there. The bird settled its tiny feet, tucked its head under a wing and seemed to shrink into sleep as a doused lamp.  
 Walking slowly, to avoid disturbing the drowsing creature, she knocked gently on the door. Ivras smiled at her, then more broadly as he saw the nightingale, and showed her to a seat. 

 With his customary grave silence he poured wine for her, then himself, and sat opposite her, his legs crossed, physically calm and serene. She looked thoughtfully at him and sipped the wine. With a sudden start she realized that through the open door to the bedroom she could see the lovers; Thranduil, face down, his knuckles white on the railings at the head of the bed, and Celeborn, gentle, sweet, lovely Celeborn, her husband to be, stooped over him, their golden hair blending together like a fine alloy, pounding remorselessly into Thranduil. She swallowed, it seemed incongruous, but then she herself knew almost nothing of the secrets of the bedchamber, it had always seemed pointless to study such matters with no hope of practical experience. But now, in front of her, a concrete demonstration was taking place, and closer still, a naked stranger watched her with piercingly perceptive eyes.  
 'My lady' the strange, golden-brown elf began 'I would strike a bargain with you.'  
Galadriel raised her eyebrows. Ivras nodded slightly 'Indeed, you understand that we communicate also in the silence.' He rose and knelt before her 'I would have you dress as I do, when we are alone. In return, I will speak. I will answer your questions, if I am certain that I have grasped what you ask.'

 Galadriel looked at him in silence. The thought of spending her married life not only naked, but with this strange creature watching constantly, made her begin to question the wisdom of Melian. But she knew that Melian only shared her knowledge, that she gave no orders, that Galadriel was truly free, as free as any elf, to decline the marriage, to join the expedition of Oropher, to marry whom she chose, or none at all. She looked back at Celeborn, he was moving swiftly now, faintly across the large chambers, through the open door, the sound of half-moaned breathing came to her. Celeborn's muscles clenched and eased as he moved, her insides tightened, she felt heat rise within her, his pale creamy skin glowed in the candlelight, she had been so long alone... 

 He too would be devastated with grief to part from Thranduil. They could at least console each other. Her mind refocused, she looked back at Ivras, he looked humble, but his ancient eyes watched her intently.  
  Curiosity filled her mind. Ivras, despite or because of his habitual nudity, might be maintaining a kind of wisdom that the Noldor had forgotten, and indeed, clothes were irrelevant within the homes of adults. The idea of communication without words had always fascinated her, and the thought that Ivras had skills that clothing and civilization had ignored or abandoned made her determined to acquire those skills as swiftly as she might. It was intolerable to her to think of this inscrutable stranger being able to perceive her mood or, worse still, her thought, while she could discern almost nothing of him. She looked at him again, he nodded slightly, and she winced, the illusion that he could read her thoughts was infuriating. Could he ? She had to know.   
 She rose, disturbing the forgotten nightingale, which fluttered hastily up to the carved branches of the ceiling, and unbuckled the belt of jewelled cornflowers from her waist. She sighed briefly, then unfastened the neck of her long violet robe, which fell shining to lie around her feet like a twilit pool. When she was quite naked, Ivras rose to his feet and stood gazing into her eyes. She was aware of him with all of her body, her skin seemed to shimmer with sensation, it was too vivid, too intense. Self-consciousness brought a blush to her cheeks, she longed to sit down, to cover herself, to hide. But she was the granddaughter of Finwë and Indis of the Vanyar, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders.  
 After all, she thought, whatever power from Yavanna this elf has, he never saw The Trees, he did not go to Valinor, he was not a mighty scholar, he was a simple... He was smiling knowingly at her. She knew he had read her thought, she could feel the prickles of embarrassment, running across her skin like the first flickers of heat from an approaching fire. As she thought this, his expression altered again, he gave the faintest of nods, and she knew that he knew what she had just thought. Her eyes closed, she bowed her head.  
  'I have much to learn, Ivras of Cuiviénen. You will aid me ?' She looked up, he was smiling.  
   'It will be my pleasure, my lady. He will need the strength of both of us to face the darkness, and his current grief.'  
   'You will remain with him ?'

   This time Ivras closed his eyes and bowed his head 'With him, I have found the happiness that I thought gone forever. I hope that you too will come to love him as I do, he is worthy of love, and his beauty you know...' They turned to the lovers; Celeborn, now shining with sweat, was moving slowly inside Thranduil, whose deep, low sounds of pleasure slid softly into their ears. Galadriel felt her heart quicken, her breathing become fast and shallow, her mouth dry. Celeborn would be hers, Thranduil was leaving, he would be hers...  
  Ivras moved his head the tiniest amount to one side, she felt his presence like a slammed door, and narrowed her eyes. How much of a husband would she get ? Thranduil had the heart of Celeborn, Ivras had his body, for her, what ? His will ?   
 She looked at Celeborn again, he was reaching satisfaction, he had thrown his head back, moving with swift deep plunges into the writhing body beneath him, and giving a cry of passionate triumph. She swallowed, and suddenly all thoughts of pride were gone, she groped behind her, found the chair and sat down, her feeble legs trembling slightly, refusing their ambiguous load. 

  Ivras looked down at her for a brief moment, not in triumph, but a hint of relief, she thought, or was that merely what she wished to see ? She watched him sit, and drink the wine, and noticed with genuine relief that he had at last become aroused himself, she had begun to feel foolish, so strongly had the sight of the lovers affected her, it was mortifying to see Ivras so unaffected.  
 He smiled slightly and looked down at her chest, she felt the burning heat of swelling skin, and knew her body responded to his gaze as though it were solid as a caress.   
  'Speak, then, Ivras of Cuiviénen, what of yourself ?'

 Ivras swallowed, and sighed reluctantly   
  'My lady, you will know that I have never told this tale, not even to my lady Melian. ' He paused and looked over his shoulder and through the door, Celeborn was now still, kissing Thranduil with an intensity of passion that stirred Galadriel in her seat, and fully roused Ivras, whose breath was sharply drawn in with a faint hiss. She turned to him with gleaming eyes, his love for Celeborn might be the key to understanding his heart, though his mind...

 Ivras turned back to her 'My lover was a great artist, he made songs that all loved to sing. My joy when he began to sing to me alone passed words... We were in rapture. But after a time, he sang only to me, and only of me, and of his love. People no longer asked him to sing, but he cared not for them, he would have declined their invitations, as he long had done. We wandered, not feeling that we were alone, for we had each other, and the world seemed complete.'   
  He smiled a distant smile, then sighed again 'Alas for my love... A beautiful stranger came to our fire, drawn, he said, by the singing. He charmed us, he gave us wine, and when we were drowsy he seduced my lover. I was watching in a dream as the stranger took my lover, but after a while my lover saw the truth in the eyes of the stranger, or felt it in his touch, which had become rough and careless. For when the eyes of the stranger were buried in the hair of my love, his dear eyes turned to me, and his lips silently shaped the word 'run !' , and with a motion of his eyes he gestured away from the fire. I vehemently refused, but that I could see his fear turn to panic.   
  I moved then, casually as it seemed, away among the trees until the firelight was faded, then I fled. The next day, climbing cautiously through the branches of trees, I approached the fireside. Several loathesome creatures, bearing weapons, which to my innocent eyes were merely strange sharp tools, stood around. The stranger sat at ease in an elaborately carved black chair, drinking and watching the torment of my lover, bound naked to the trunk of a tree, being violently struck by one of the creatures with a long strand of a dark substance, like rope... Each time the beast struck, a line of blood appeared across the back of my lover. My heart broke within me. I had no hope of saving him, they were many, I was alone, unarmed, naked. I wept as I watched him suffer, but as the night fell, they began to use him cruelly, taking turns on him, and in my despair I fled. I do not know if he yet lives and I have no hope of finding him again. I have lived without purpose, without hope, since then, though now...'  
 He looked over his shoulder, the lovers still embraced, he smiled gently and turned back to Galadriel 'Now my heart begins to stir, I find I am sincerely interested in the fate of this shining young elf, and the sweetness of his nature warms my frozen spirit. ' He sighed again 'My poor Celeborn, to finally win his love, only to have him snatched away.   
  I am heartbroken for him, and would gladly endure the pain in his stead. My heart suffers for you also, my lady, for you are as a queen among elves, with your incomparable beauty, your profound wisdom, your great and noble family. You should have had your pick of devoted admirers, not be reluctantly paired with one who has already given his heart to another.'

 Galadriel stared into the distance for a moment, appalled by the horror of Ivras's tale. She frowned and looked seriously at him  
  'Ivras, I thank you for confiding in me, I am deeply honoured, though deeply saddened by the evil fate that befell your lover. I hope that one day, if you ever feel able, you will sing one of the songs your lover wrote, and share with us a voice from the ancient past. ' She smiled at him 'I know that you also are a voice from the ancient past, but I am told that you rarely speak. I fear you have left your heart by the fire where your lover was destroyed. You must know more than I that there is no return from the chains of the Enemy.  
  I too live in despair, for the one I gave my heart to did not desire it. His fate, alas, is unknown to me, but even were he alive, he would not come to my side. ' she paused and smiled 'He was one of the few who would not... for I did have my pick of devoted admirers, but there is only one Glorfindel, and he loved only Finrod, who is my brother.' She tightened her lips   
  But now... I too am interested in the fate of shining Celeborn, you and I must work together to keep him strong, for his own sake, for the sake of the child, and for the little we can do to guard the Light.'

 Ivras looked thoughtfully at her, she felt a thawing within him, a grudging appreciation of her spirit; he spoke again 'l am only an elf, but I can perceive a little of the thought of Melian, and I have come to suspect that what she will not understand of me is what she will not understand of herself, that we are both creatures of Yavanna, too close to Arda, too close to the forest and the beasts and the earth beneath our feet.  
  She loves the elves too much, she would be a creature of the spirit, a thing of light and air, as Varda or Manwë, but instead her passion has trapped her in the form of an elf, and the strength of her desire for Thingol will keep her here until he perishes, or the world ends.  
  My secret, as hers, is not that I am mysterious, but that I am simple, an ordinary elf, now awakened from a long slumber by the renewed sense of purpose that my devotion to Celeborn has given to me. I have the wit to grasp that what to me is the solution to my grief is to her the cause of grief, but the purposes of Eru elude us all, and only the Music offers guidance.'

 Galadriel nodded thoughtfully, it was true that the Noldor neglected Yavanna; as followers of Aulë they saw the creatures and the foliage as tools to be put to use in the crafting of things, not as beings in their own right, with lives of joy and pain, like elves. But she felt that Ivras had not grasped the power and subtlety of the maia, who had that very morning expressed her passing regret for the wisdom she had sacrificed in cloaking herself in flesh. But this was not the time for sharing thoughts of Melian, she must focus, she was impatient with curiosity, eager to add to her knowledge.  
  There was much to learn from this strange elf, survivor of the ancient world; both in understanding the form of worldless communication, and the content of the signals conveyed by the spirit, and by the flesh. He might consider himself simple, but to Galadriel's igorance, his claim of simplicity was as that of a great singer, whose technique and skill were beyond the reach of the small fingers of words; or the simplicity of white light, which the skills of the Noldor had discovered to be composed not of some pure essence of whiteness, but of an astonishing feat of creative magic on the part of Eru Illuvatar, that white light was in reality an alloy, a fusion, a great chord of rich bright colours, blended impossibly together and transmuted into the apparent purity of white light.  
  Ivras might lack the skill to explain his knowledge, but there was no disputing the fact that he had some of the knowledge of the secrets that Melian was forbidden to share, that of all elves, he and he alone could reveal them to her. She must discover his methods, there was no other from whom to learn. The matter was entirely absent from Noldor fields of learning, and she feared that even with Ivras mentoring her closely, the exploration of her sensory awareness would occupy her for a long time to come. She was already filled with gratitude that she would have the opportunity to benefit from Ivras's rare skills, but she wondered if she had any knowledge or skills that he would wish her to share with him in turn.  He was smiling again  
   
  'From you, my lady, I would learn all that you can tell of Valinor and its mighty inhabitants, to say nothing of the strange history of your own family, and your culture. My silence and my withdrawal are in part caused by mere shyness, the people here all know much which they are barely aware that they know, but I, in my ignorance, would appear foolish to them, and even more simple than I already am. '  
 'Do not fear, Ivras, it will ease my guilt at accepting your guidance if there is a little that I can do to aid you to find acceptance. But I must leave Doriath, and I am to take Celeborn with me. I assume that you will join our expedition, if you care for him so ?'  
 Ivras nodded, 'I shall never leave him. Thranduil has accepted my presence. I hope that you will be able to do the same.'

  Galadriel looked at the lovely, golden-brown body, the calmly beautiful face, the smooth golden-brown hair falling across the smooth muscles of his chest. She turned to where the lovers lay still, limbs entangled, breathing slowing, settling into the placid calm of bliss.  
  To her astonishment she realized that she was happy, that the air seemed to shine with love, that Ivras, in his serenity, seemed to fill the rooms with a tranquil joy, a sense of homecoming, of completion. Her journey had ended, she thought, she had reached the place she had long been seeking; not in Doriath, but with this odd assortment of lovers, and that wherever they went, they could face anything, challenge any foe, defy even the Enemy, strengthened by the love that filled their hearts.

 Ivras nodded and rose, she watched him move into the bedroom, where he touched the arm of Thranduil, who looked up at him, then followed Ivras into the bathroom, bowing slightly to Galadriel as he passed. 

 Celeborn sat up, blinking at her, then rose to his feet and entered the large room. Galadriel found herself becoming nervous, for all her great age and learning, she had no experience of physical love, and could not bear to appear foolish in the eyes of one so young. But Celeborn stood in front of her with a shy smile and held out his hand, and she took it and rose to meet his eyes.  
  They were of a height, for Galadriel was tall even among the males, their eyes gazed levelly at each other, until a faint tremor passed through Celeborn.  
  'My lady, I know nothing of females. I am afraid, and I am especially afraid of you, mighty Galadriel, but if you will come with me, perhaps we can discover the ways of the body together.'  
 She smiled, his open sweetness warmed her heart, as his beauty warmed her flesh; he led her into the bedroom, where they lay on the bed, and Celeborn turned on his side, leaned on one elbow and smiled down at her  
   'I hope, my lady, that you can be patient with me, for I am ignorant and young. But Ivras has shown me many of the moods of the body, and we shall have long years to explore them together. I hope in time to bring you some of the bliss that I have already known. '

  She found herself breathless, his beauty stunned her, filling her mind, towering over Arda like a Valar, the clear grey-blue eyes seemed larger than the sky, the perfection of his features was as a template of Eru, as though to say "this, this is an elf, this is the truth of elven strength and beauty."   
  She felt the blush, not only in her face, but all over her body, which was both loosening and tensing, as it prepared itself to receive the gift of love. Desire rose to meet the blinding beauty of Celeborn, desire and the first stirrings of her own love. At last she knew that Melian had been right about them, that despite the devotion Celeborn undoubtedly felt for Thrandul, there yet remained in him a greater capacity for love, another kind of love, which he would bestow upon her and the child of their hearts.  
  He leaned forward, his white-gold hair fell around her face like sunlit rain, and his pale lips lowered onto hers in the first kiss she had ever had.

     
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